


Bandaid

by peter_parkr



Series: you're alright, kid. [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, References to Depression, Sad Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, sorry this came from a dark place lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peter_parkr/pseuds/peter_parkr
Summary: "You've been watching me?""Kid, how are you even surprised at this point? I can't trust you to tie your goddamn shoes without trying to take down a drug ring."Peter scoffed at that but remained silent. Tony placed a gentle hand on his shoulder."So, are you gonna tell me what's wrong? Or do I need to threaten you?"---Or: Peter's alone at home for the week and having a rough time of it. Tony comes to keep him company.





	Bandaid

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT #3: "No, Stop"
> 
> Warnings: depression, dealing with grief/loss, swearing  
> This is kinda sad/a downer so please be careful if you're in a bad place!!
> 
> *starts whumptober*  
> *loses motivation*  
> *picks it back up 7 months later*
> 
> anywaysss now i'm back! please enjoy and leave a comment! also if you have ideas/commissions for future prompts, lmk!

"Yes, May, I'm fine. I'm great. Yup, I'm sure. Uhhh, I think we have some leftover spaghetti? Yeah, I'll text you later. Ok. Love you too. Bye May."

Peter hung up and rolled over in his bed. He stared at the opposite wall. There was a crack in it, about a foot long. It happened one night, early in his spider-man career, when he banged into the wall as he was crawling inside after patrol. Every day, the crack opened a little wider. Peter stared inside, but even with his enhanced senses there was nothing there to see. A void. 

Sometimes when Peter closed his eyes he dreamed that the crack would open and swallow him whole, and then maybe he would feel peace.

Peter scoffed at himself and rolled onto his back. Since when had he become a fucking poster boy for teen angst?

The last few years had been shit. First there was Ben. Then there was learning to live again after Ben, which was somehow worse. Poor May was absolutely gutted. Peter would never forget the sound of May sobbing every night in her room for  _months_  after it happened. At first, he would go sit with her and hug her until she calmed down and finally fell asleep. But that made May feel guilty, so eventually she started crying only in the shower. Then one day she stopped altogether; not healed, but better.

Peter processed his grief differently - quietly. He internalized it, packing Ben away in a little box at the back of his mind along with his parents and the warehouse and all the other shit he doesn't speak about. And he continued to live; school, grades, friends, inventions, patrol. Distractions.

Any time that box tried to sneak open, Peter shut his brain off. He went numb, because thinking about nothing at all was a hell of a lot less painful than thinking about  _that_. He feared that if he let the box open, it would be bottomless. If he let the crack widen, it would drag him in and take everyone he loves with it.

So Peter told his brain to fuck off and stared at the crack in the wall.

 

\---

 

Summer vacation meant that Ned was away in Florida with his parents and MJ was living with her dad in Ohio ('The Ass Crack of America', as she called it). And, on Peter's insistence that he would be  _fine_ , May was out of town all week on a training course; she was losing a whole week of salary, but it would put her in a position to be promoted later on. 

This lack of distraction was proving to be a bit of a problem. The first couple days, Peter patrolled almost non-stop. But it was day four now and he could  _not_  get out of bed. The box was starting to open and he was consumed by his thoughts, trapped inside his own mind, with nothing and no one to stop him from spiralling. He wasn't eating or showering, let alone going outside. His suit sat across the room, laid haphazardly over a chair, mocking him.

 

_Lazy. Pathetic. Weak._

_People are out there in trouble. They have real problems. And you can't even get yourself out of bed to help them._

_Worthless._

 

The monologue was constant and relentless and paralyzing. Usually by now May would have come home from work, and Peter would be forced to get out of bed and act normal. Or Ned would drag him out of the apartment to go to the movies or build something dumb. Or MJ would come distract him with practicing for decathlon or forcing him to help her make signs for some protest or another.

But with no one around to distract him, Peter was frozen in time. The days passed by while he lay in bed, feeling nothing except the weight of the world on his chest. He had never felt so empty. 

 

Three more hours of nothing passed.

 

Peter's phone went off. And off. And off. He finally answered it on the last ring.

"Hullo?"

"Peter?" Oh shit. He knew that voice.

"Uhhh.. Mr. Stark?"

"Uhhh... yes. It's 2018. Don't you have caller ID?"

"No, it stopped working a while ago."

"Huh. Remind me to buy you a new phone."

"Right." Peter knew he wouldn't.

There was a pause, but the silence was more companionable than uncomfortable. Judging by the rustling noises, Mr. Stark was multitasking.

"So. Kid. What are you up to this lovely Thursday evening?"

Thursday? That was news to him. 

"Oh, you know. Kickin' bad guys. Being a meddlesome kid. The usual." Peter was trying to muster some of his usual enthusiasm - with little success.

"Hmmm." Tony didn't sound convinced.

"Uhh. What are you doing?" Peter couldn't quite figure out why Mr. Stark was calling. 

"I'm ass-deep in Mark 48. I've run into a bug. A 'big boi', as you kids would say."

"Hmm." Normally Peter would be asking a million questions by now, but all he wanted to do was hang up and go to sleep.

There was a heavy pause.

"Yeah. Anyways, what do you say you come over and give me a hand? I could use a young brain. Not that I'm old or anything. I could send Happy over in an hour?"

Peter let his eyes slide shut in disappointment. Normally he would be over the moon at an invitation to work with Mr. Stark, but tonight he just  _couldn't_. He didn't have the will or the energy, and he knew he looked like absolute shit. 

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. But I'm actually kinda busy tonight. I have... math club."

Tony laughed. 

"Math club? In July? You have got to be shitting me."

"No, for real. And I'm going for Vice President next year, so I really can't miss any meetings..." Peter was finding it surprisingly easy to outright lie. 

"Alright, kid. If you say so. See you next week?"

"Sure thing. Later, Mr. Stark."

Peter hung up and let out a sigh, sinking back into his pillow. His relief only lasted a second before it turned into a deep emptiness. Why was he isolating himself when he obviously needed help?

_Because you're an idiot._

_Because who would want to help you, anyways?_

_Because you're nothing without the suit._

_Because it's your fault that Ben -_

Peter pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Heavy, silent tears escaped him. He forced the box in his brain back shut and stayed like that for hours.

 

\---

 

It was well past midnight when Peter heard an unusual whirring noise coming from outside his window. Then a thud on the roof of his building. Then, a few minutes later, the clanging of keys and the click of a lock. Then footsteps inside his apartment. Then a knock on his bedroom door. 

Peter knew he should be on guard. Someone just entered his apartment. He should be suiting up and hiding on the ceiling, ready to pounce on the intruder. But what's the point when he feels so detached? They knock again.

Peter opened his eyes a fraction and stared blankly at the door as the knob turned and it creaked open. 

Mr. Stark poked his head into the bedroom. Peter blinked.

"... Kid?" Tony said warily as he took a hesitant step into the room. "You alright there?"

Peter closed his eyes as his heart sunk. He just wanted to be alone.

"What are you doing here?" He whispered, more neutral than rude. 

"I... wanted to check up on you. I know you're alone this week. And you sounded weird on the phone earlier."

Peter hummed in response. He heard light footsteps padding towards him. The mattress dipped and Peter looked up to see Tony sitting by his head, looking down at him with a pinched expression.

"So. I was obviously right. Something's up. Are you hurt? Secret injury?"

Peter shook his head.

"Ok. That's good. Girl problems?" 

Peter raised his eyebrows.

"... Boy problems?"

"No, stop. I'm fine." Peter rolled his eyes. That was a discussion for a different time. 

"Clearly. Well, I know it's not about patrol, considering you haven't been in the suit since... Saturday? Is that right?"

"You've been watching me?"

"Kid, how are you even surprised at this point? I can't trust you to tie your goddamn shoes without trying to take down a drug ring."

Peter scoffed at that but remained silent. Tony placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"So, are you gonna tell me what's wrong? Or do I need to threaten you?"

Peter sighed and stared back at the crack in the wall.

 

_Stupid._

_Waste of time._

_Selfish._

 

"Mr. Stark, do you ever feel like you're... trapped?"

Tony squinted. "Can you elaborate?"

Peter spoke softly, choosing his words thoughtfully.

"It's like... all this bad shit has happened. And it's all locked up in your head, like in this dark place at the back. And some days you can ignore it, and you're ok. But other days something pokes it, and it it opens up. And suddenly your whole brain is covered in it, like molasses. And you can't do shit about it. You're just... trapped."

Tony nodded in understanding, looking at Peter with concern written in his every feature, along with a hint of guilt.

"Are you trapped today, Pete?"

Peter nodded as an involuntary tear spilled down his face. Mr. Stark swiped it away with his thumb, allowing his hand to cup Peter's face.

"How can I help you get... un-trapped?"

Peter thought for a moment.

"I don't know, Mr. Stark. I don't think you can. But thanks for coming to see me."

"Of course. But next time you're struggling, could you tell me sooner? You know I'm always just a phone call away. There's no difference between this and a stab wound. We don't stitch ourselves up, yeah?"

Peter smiled softly, for the first time in days. His eyes held deep gratitude.

"Ok. I will."

Tony sighed and ruffled his curls lightly.

"So. Rough week, eh? When's the last time you ate?"

"Uhh..." Peter couldn't even remember.

"Now that's one thing I can help with. Up and at 'em, kid. We're making pancakes."

 

\---

 

Over pancakes on the couch, Peter told Tony about the crack in his wall. While Peter was in the shower, Tony quietly got up and walked into the teen's room. He made a note to pay for the wall to be fixed later, but in the meantime he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink  _Dora the Explorer_ bandaid. Smirking, Tony unwrapped it and carefully placed it over the widest part of the crack. Sometimes, it's the little things that help. 

 

\---

 

When May slipped in the front door early the next morning, the first thing she saw was Tony Stark. He was sitting on her couch in sweatpants, his head lolled back as he slept soundly. His hand was resting on Peter, who was curled up in a ball with his head on Tony's leg and his socked feet tucked underneath him. There were dirty plates and maple syrup on the coffee table, in front of the TV who was dimly asking "Are you still watching?". 

And if May smiled and pulled out her phone to snap a picture before quietly clearing away the plates, who could blame her?

**Author's Note:**

> yeahhhh i'm in a bit of a bad spot these days :-( so i dumped it into this
> 
> but who's pumped for endgame to come rip them apart!!


End file.
